The Joker prt 2
by XxflawedrainbowxX
Summary: What happens to whatever is left of the hurt Jack Napier? He turns into a complete sociopath, that's what. Jack and Ani's point of view. Please comment on what you think!


Recent robbery, Houston, TX.

_"I don't even know what happened," bank accountant Jared Robinson says. "One minute everything was going fine. Then there was a scream. It didn't last very long. It was almost as if someone's breathing was cut short. Then there was some sociopath with scars on his face…I only saw him for a second. It was all like a dream after he put me out. It's weird though…it's almost as if he didn't want to hurt me…" _

Ever since I killed my father, there has always been a report on the "villain of Gotham." They could call me whatever they wanted, but it wouldn't matter. Everything was pretty much true.

There had been another rumor about some man in a black suit trying to get to me. Well. I'd just have to see for myself.

I threw the newspaper against the wet pavement and licked my lips. My scars didn't ache nearly as much as they used to, but they still did. Unthinkingly, my fingers reached for them and brushed gently along the lines like Marissa would do.

It was becoming slightly difficult to remember names. The last time I'd spoken was probably a week or so ago when I killed a storekeeper. I've gotten used to what it feels like to have a trigger being pulled; I must have done it about twenty times or so. I licked my lips again.

"HEY! HEY THERE HE IS!" someone called from my right. I turned and noticed two officers spring out of their cruiser removing the guns from their belts. It was an automatic thing for my body to begin moving. I burst into a sprint and stopped, noticing a ladder for an apartment building. I was swift as I climbed. I licked my lips. The sound of a whooshing bullet did not startle me; however I did pull out the gun from my back pocket. I licked my lips and shot at one of them missing their forehead by a few inches. He fell to the ground, limp and wasted.

I made it to the top of the building gasping, and when the officer made it to the top she said, "Surrender before someone else gets hurt!" I could hear the fear in her tone, see the moisture in her eyes. Did she really have what it took to shoot me?

"Put the weapon down and put your hands on your head!" I didn't move. I wasn't afraid to die; in fact that was what I really wanted. I licked my lips. She cocked her gun.

There was something in the distance, like a light thudding noise. No, not _light_…louder…a helicopter? I licked my lips and turned reflexively when something bright shone against my back.

"WE HAVE YOU SUROUNDED. SURRENDER IMMIDIATELY." I licked my lips and slowly calculated what should be done.

_Oh, do I have to do everything myself? _I sighed and aimed my gun at the woman's head. She tensed, and I cocked my gun. I began to step to the right, away from the helicopter and her, and she pulled the trigger just a tad late. I was already off the building, falling roughly toward a car. It shattered, and I shattered with it. My legs were still ringing as I stood up and I laughed. It was almost as if it was a suicide jump, and I was fine.

Well, I was beginning to become used to doing things that weren't exactly "sane." I'd gotten a reputation of being the crazy sociopath with scars. But I hadn't seen my face in a while, and there was really no reason to. Everyone reminded me of me of what I looked like.

The helicopter's light searched around for me, but it was useless. I wasn't within their sight anymore and I was already laughing about how the crazy jokester got away. _Jokester?_ I did joke a lot. It was never really necessary to be so serious all the time anyway. Joke. _The Joker._ Why could I see that as the top page on a random Sunday paper?

--

"What are you doing Dieter?" I mumbled though I already knew.

"I'm reading the most recent news about the socio--"

"Why does everyone keep calling him that? He is not crazy…" I let my sentence trail of when I noticed my voice getting smaller.

"You know that it's true. He's not our friend anymore An. The guy killed his own father--"

"Because his 'own father' killed Marissa. He was hurt."

"You're making it seem like it's okay to murder." He muttered more to himself then to me.

"So are you! He…just hasn't been himself since—since _that _was done to him." I pointed to my cheeks. Dieter clicked his tongue, as if he were ignoring me, which he probably was. I rolled my eyes and went to sit on the couch beside him. He pretended to neglect me at first, but then he sighed and wrapped his arm around my shoulders.

"You're right. You always are." He kissed my nose playfully.

My eyelids began to feel heavy, and Dieter noticed my struggling.

"Go to sleep. It's about time you got a good rest anyway." I obeyed, and let my lids win the fight.

When I woke, my head was laid against a fluffy pillow rather than Dieter's shoulder. I smelled bacon and eggs cooking in the kitchen, so I stretched and yawned letting my legs carry me.

Dieter was cooking, just as I suspected, with the newspaper, no doubt, lying beside the frying pan. He looked up and greeted me when I entered.

"Oh. Hey. Finally up?"

"Yeah. How long was I--" I cut my sentence short when I heard a siren from outside. Dieter turned the eye off, and peeked out of the blinds. His expression was unreadable as he turned for the door. My hands flew to my hair automatically. I tried to loosen the knots and straighten my wrinkled shirt.

"Is there a problem officer?" Dieter asked a little distracted.

"No, there is no problem. We just need to ask you and your friend a few questions."

The questions that were coming up were not hard to predict. The officer refused to ask them until we were all the way down town. He did apologize for the inconvenience. Not that it helped. We reached the station in about a half hour since we were escorted by a police cruiser.

"Do you know this person?" The sheriff asked pulling out a picture from his chest pocket. It was a young man with dark brown eyes, wavy brown hair, and long stitches where gnashes obviously were. I recovered before Dieter.

"Yes." I croaked. I was trying to fight back the tears. He'd grown so much in the short time it's been since we last saw each other. Or at least it seemed short.

"Do you remember his name?" I hesitated.

"Yes."

"Can you tell me all of the information that you know about him?" I wanted to say _no_, but I couldn't find my voice. "I'm sorry, I know this is difficult for you, but this man is a criminal. We need to know as much as possible. Why he is a murderer. Why he robs. Why he is a complete sociopath." Dieter knew what my reaction would be when anyone called him crazy.

After several more questions, I wasn't exactly sure if Dieter wanted to rat on Jack. But I still hoped he wouldn't.

"Perhaps I should ask a different question." The woman sheriff suggested. Was she talking? I hope she didn't think me rude not to answer. I hadn't a clue that we were even having a conversation anymore.

"How do _you_ know the Joker?"

"Joker?" I asked. That one was new.

"The news reporters had to give him some kind of name didn't they?"

"I guess so. We've both known…_him_," I was sure not to say his name. "since the seventh grade."

"So then you know his _real _name?"

"Jack," I sighed. She widened her eyes as an encouragement to continue. "Napier. Jack Napier is his real name."

"Was his real name. Listen, miss, This…animal? He doesn't have a name anymore. He's—he's done so many cruel things, and--"

"Look. I don't care what you, or your boss, or your _boss's_ _boss_ thinks about Jack. He may get angry, or he may seem a little crazed--" I paused remembering the doctor's words. I wouldn't have imagined myself quoting him. "But that doesn't mean that it's true that he's a murderer." I hadn't realized I was leaning on the edge of my seat. Dieter put his hand around my wrist and gently pulled my back into a sitting position.

"Oh _really_?" she asked a large amount of bitterness in her tone. "Well when's the last time you watched the news? Or read the newspaper?" I tried not to look at Dieter, but caught his gaze from the corner of my eye. I looked away before he could. "He has killed so many. And…and he does it so thoughtlessly…he…he doesn't care, he doesn't--"

She was sobbing. The other officer put a comforting hand on her shoulder. She quietly cleared her throat.

"Excuse me," she apologized. "It's just that, last night, he shot my fiancé. We were supposed to be married in just a few weeks now…" she let her sentence trail off, when I noticed her eyelashes dripping.

She left a tear there on her cheek, and I couldn't help but to pity her.

I'm so sorry," Dieter and I said at the same time.

After Dieter and I were released, Dieter reached for my hand in the car.

"I'm sorry sweetheart. I know it's hard talking about Jack. After all, he was my friend too." He smiled hugely. "But…maybe…maybe the officers are right. Maybe Jack really _is _a murderer. I mean, you know, of course, that he was really depressed when Marissa died," he took a deep breath to steady himself. "and don't you think that it's a little odd that his father 'died' that very same night?"

"You're right." He _was _right. "Jack isn't _our _Jack anymore…I just…I just _wish_ he was. Or that I could at least see him again. It's been so long."

"It has." He sighed.

"_Hurry up!" I screeched at the confused, old store clerk. It was the first time I'd talked in a long time. My voice was very hoarse._

_My gun was held tightly in hand, cocked and aimed at the clerks head. His sun-tanned skin was sweaty as he continued to place stacks and stacks of bills into an old bag I happened to come by. I licked my lips and laughed. I don't know why I did, but it just seemed like so much fun to me to kill people…_

"_Haha…don't be so serious! Don't worry. It will all be over soon." I pulled the trigger and zipped up the tattered blood stained bag. I licked my lips when I heard a siren from outside._

_An officer threw the door open, gun in hand, and froze when she came across the dead body lying against the counter. I didn't see anymore because I was already outside the building—_

I hit _stop_ on the VCR and sighed. What exactly did I have to do to get them to kill me? I licked my lips. Well, then again, it was sort of fun, death itself. I liked to see it. I must really be a psycho to kill people for my own entertainment.

I licked my lips again and pulled back the matted streaks of hair out of my face. My temple began to hurt, so I reached for it rubbing until I noticed my eyelids begin to droop. When was the last time I had a decent nap? I couldn't remember.

I woke up to a terrible throbbing in my head again, when I noticed it was still dark out.

"Finally," someone sighed. "I was beginning to think I'd have to wake you myself."

"And you are?" I was a little annoyed that someone bothered to snoop into an abandoned building just to find me.

"Your worst nightmare. I am The Batman." Fists picked me up by my jacket, and threw me against my entertainment system. I laughed and licked my lips when he punched them. The jabs continued, and _I_ only continued to laugh. His fists grabbed me again.

"What happened to your father?! Talk! I want ANSWERS!" When I began to laugh again, he groaned, obviously wishing for me to show some sign of pain. His hands locked around my throat, and I licked my lips, prepared for death.

"Are you going to kill me? Go ahead." He gripped tighter and I didn't fight. I ignored the burn in my lungs, the desire for every nerve in my body to pull his hands as far away from my throat as they would go.

His fingers released my throat and snapped back at full force to my face. Blood trickled down from my nose over my wet lips.

"Fine! Well then I'll just have to take you with me." I didn't hear anymore because I was already out.

"…yeah he's been out for a while. Nah he ain't going no where's. Yup. Yeah. The Batman got that chump pretty good eh? Yeah I know—oh my god—HEY! Hey this guy's getting' up!" _Ah…so they finally caught me? Then, why am I still alive? Or, am I not?_ I opened my eyes slowly, letting them adjust to the bright light. I tried to reach to shade them, but something pulled at my wrists. Handcuffs. Not to mention that there were chains covering every inch of my body.

"Sit up, Joker." _Wow. Did he really just call me that?_ I licked my lips.

"I'm sure you're wondering why you're still alive. Well. That's because we _still_ don't have answers." I stared at him. He was tall and slim, with graying hair and glasses.

"Not talking huh? Well, today we're going to play a little game where you answer every time I tell you to. Understand?" I didn't respond. He pulled something small and square out from his back pocket and pushed a button. The chair I was sitting on lit up and sent a wave of electricity through me. I screamed piercingly, and my muscles tensed. The current suddenly stopped, and I felt relief flood through me. I relaxed still gasping.

"So, Joker. Or do you prefer Jack?" I scowled whenever someone who didn't know me called me that. "Why did you kill Bryan Napier?" I hated that man. I thought about the current sweeping through me again, so I answered quickly.

"Because he killed her."

"Who? Who did he kill?" I licked my lips. He was going to have to beat that one out of me. I laughed. It was the loudest I ever have. I watched his finger ache for the button again.

"This. Is. Not. Funny!" _He's not going to kill me…_I sighed. I licked my lips again and closed my eyes.

-- -- --

My foot tapped rapidly against the tile floor as Dieter and I sat in the waiting room. This time we weren't called to the police station, but once we heard the news that Jack was captured, that we could possibly see him again, Dieter knew I wouldn't refuse.

"Ms. Ani Vega?" someone called. I automatically stood up.

I followed a stubby man to a steel door. The walls were made out of concrete. Dieter let out a low whistle.

I put my hand on the doorknob and twisted dramatically slow. His eyes were closed and sagged with sweat and dirt. There were purple circles underneath them, and underneath his chin. Almost like bruises, but I couldn't be sure from such a distance. His stitches were barely visible, but it was still very obvious that there used to be scars on his face.

I walked over to him and placed my fingers on either side of his face. Dieter put a hand on his arm. His eyes still weren't open. Was he asleep?

"Jack? Jack it's me! It's Ani." He hesitated, but leisurely opened his eyes.

"A-Ani?" he slowly remembered.

"Oh Jack! I knew you'd remember! Where have you been all this time? You scared us sick! And…and why are your clothes so…" I let my sentence trail and let my eyes roam his skin. They stopped at his neck. There were bruises!

"Jack! What did they _do_ to you?" he didn't answer he only licked his blood-red lips. "Jack, it's okay you know. I wouldn't hurt you if I could."

"Don't you care that I killed people?"

"Y-you killed people? But…Jack that's a serious crime! You could—no, you _would_ get some serious jail time for that!" he nodded.

"So you do care. Okay. Don't worry. I'm used to it." It seemed like he began to talk with himself.

"Well, of course I care! That's…that's--"

"Times up," someone announced saving me momentarily. I touched Jack's face one more time before we had to depart. Dieter and I gave him a quick goodbye, and followed the same man to the exit.

"You'll see him again An," Dieter promised. I knew that when he made a promise, he kept it.


End file.
